Letters to a loved one
by Prologi
Summary: Remus' unsent letters to Sirius. Pre-PoA, Post-Hogwarts and a bit of post-OoTP. Mild slash. Complete. Epilogue up on 22nd of June.
1. November the 3rd, 1981

title: Letters to a loved one  
  
author: Me. (Surprise!)  
  
summary: Remus' unsent letters to Sirius. Early Pre-PoA, Post-Hogwarts.  
  
rating: Um... PG-ish?  
  
warnings: some angst, minor slash, horrible english  
  
disclaimer: You could make this little test: Were Remus and Sirius snogging in Order of The Phoenix? No? Then still not mine, honey. I only own the writing. But I probably unconsciously copied that, too, from someone else. -_-  
  
Author's Notes: I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed my other work, and tell the flamer of FR that that was childish. *mutters something that sounds very much like 'idiot'*  
  
Now, go read it, and please leave a review. I'll worship you eternally if you do. Even the flamers, but because they make my blog so much more amusing.  
  
I know, it IS horribly cliché. And it repeats itself way too much. But I like it anyway. ^_^;  
  
I SO need a beta. -_-;  
  
Letters to a loved one (Argh, terrible title, I know, but I couldn't come up with anything better.)  
  
***  
  
I'm losing my grip of reality. Why should I struggle to keep a hold of things going on around me? No-one cares if I am here or not. Dumbledore must've known I'd think something like that, sending me a note the day you were sent to Azkaban. "We need you." One hell of a assurance, that was. We need you. The hell you do. Haven't heard of him since.  
  
I really didn't have other friends besides you three, except that Ravenclaw girl who skipped off to live a happy domestic life with a husband, two kids and a dog to some London suburban, leaving me to rot in this hellhole.  
  
Why should I care for the world? It dosen't care for me, why should it? I'm a beast, an animal, not worthy of having same rights as my friends.  
  
Mm, friends. What friends? You're dead. Or at least as good as dead. You betrayed me. I don't understand, it just doesn't fit the image I have of you. Well, blasting a street to air is not much more familiar. What happened to you, Siri? You've changed so much during the last six months. Or could it be that you were trying to hide your betrayal from me? I just can't believe you did it. I won't believe.  
  
I know it's wrong, not being able to hate you no matter how hard I try. Of course I'm mad at you, leaving me alone, but shouldn't I hate you for betraying Lily's and James' trust? I think a part of me already does, but it's a small part somewhere in edge of my mind. The very same part that is breaking my heart and shattering my soul, my hopes, nagging at edges of my sanity. I can hear your steps and your voice, sometimes only soft padding of paws or a whisper, but I still know it's you. Your manners, your voice, your scent, even the sound of your breathing is imprinted to my heart. I am afraid to close my eyes, beacause your image is all that is wating me in the realm of dreams. And they are not pleasant dreams. They are the ones that should be nightmares for me, now, but they aren't. Memories of our Hogwarts' days, running out during the full moon. You, me, Prongs and Wormtail. Well, better not forget them, now I can't have new memories like that. But I'm not bitter, altrough I should propably be, just sad.  
  
I need you, just to know I'm still alive. Sometimes I highly doubt I'll make it through life. But, well, no-one lives and gets to tell the tale. That's pretty much the point. Life equals death. Although I think death can't by any means be worse than this.  
  
I loved you, you know. I know you know. I loved the few years after school when we could just be together, not having to do anything. Those memories are the most painful ones, the happy memories I know I should doubt. But my heart tells me they weren't a lie, a facade. I don't want to lose them, like I lost everything else. But they hurt, every single time I see something that reminds me of you it twists the knife in the wound. A wound that doesn't heal, because it's too deep for that. It'll never stop bleeding, time can't save me from being drained.  
  
That's the main reason I moved out of our flat. Your presence was almost intoxicating, it seems to have seeped in the walls, floorboards, the furniture. I left everything behind. Everything, except a few books, empty sheets of parchment, my quill and clothes with least holes in them. And the photo album. You remember it, don't you? A thick, leather-bound book with 'Memoires' written on top of it? I remember the time you first showed it to me, when it was still empty and brand new. The typo was the first thing to get my attention. I can't understand what was so damn funny about it. Now the book is almost my most prized possesion. Even if I don't open it. Ever. It hurts too much, the memories and living pictures of happier times. Maybe I'll get to give it to Harry one day. Until that, it stays shut in my bookshelf. But I took out one picture. The one of you and me on Valetine's day, seventh year. The one James took to prove you're a lovesick puppy. I'm not saying you weren't, but old Prongs failed quite miserably with the picture. For one, the camera was in a really weird position, and second, his thumb covers half of it. But i's the other half that matters. The right side of my face is covered by the thumb, but you are completely visible, looking at me with an expression that still makes my knees go weak. And every now and then, of course, you turn to death-glare at Jamie. One of the things that make it so special for me is the way sun shines in trough the commonroom window behind us, giving your hair absolutely gorgeus higlights, and giving you a golden aura. Not even a professional could have pictured you better.  
  
The photo is framed and on my desk, despite how horrible piece of photography it actually is. It makes me smile, but also shatters me.  
  
I miss you, I miss you so much it's driving me insane. I would give the world just to see you, hold you, but some other part of me just wants you dead, the part that goes with the mind telling me you're guilty. But somehow, the part that go with the heart have the better of it. Because of it I can't forget you, even if I should. It's the right thing to do, what I have to do. But I can't let you go, not just yet. Not after suffering so much for you. I won't let go so easily.  
  
***  
  
AN part two: Well, there was part one. I might write another one, I already started to write it, and I have an idea for one more. The second would be later pre-PoA, and the third post-OotP. Tell me what you think! ^^ 


	2. December the 18th, 1992

disclaimer: I'm not JKR, she's about the same age as my mother. She owns Harry Potter, and Harry Potter owns me. Don't sue me.  
  
Author's Notes: Thank you to all who reviewed, without the motivation I wouldn't have writed this piece of crappy fanfiction.  
  
Apologies, this took so long because I had a case of combined writer's block and laziness. I just had to post SOMETHING, and I think this chapter turned out to be total crap.  
  
Review replies, because I love it when an author does this. And because I've always wanted but haven't written anything multi-chaptered before. ^^  
  
Talifiney: I meant to e-mail you about the beta thing, but you didn't have your address on your profile, so I kinda couldn't. I think I could've found it somewhere else, but were too lazy to. ^_^;  
  
The S/R-fandom is so large it seems everything has been done at least once, so it's nearly impossible to come up with original ideas. I, for one, have no imagination so I fall for clichés too often even if I don't mean to.  
  
Glad you liked, now there shouldn't be any mistakes in the spelling because I ran this through a spellchecker, but that didn't of course help with my sucky grammar. ^^  
  
fruits candy: Aww, thank you. I like the picture too. Sadly, this chapter is by no means as good as the last one. -.-  
  
~*Ari*~: They are awsome, aren't they? ^^ And yes, they really should be together. I mean, they gave Harry a joined gift and the way Remus silenced Sirius's mom just screams "mother-in-law".  
  
Letters to a loved one, chapter two.  
  
***  
  
December the 18th, 1992  
  
Oh great. Here I am, in front of my desk, writing another letter to you. I know I'll never send it, and you'll never see it, but maybe I do it just to sort my thoughts. Maybe I do it to make myself remember what it used to be like, loving someone with all your heart and being able to trust them. Or maybe I do it to forget, to make the haunting memories go away. Maybe if I pour them all on a piece of paper and bury it deep inside a drawer, it'll go away, bury itself somewhere deep inside my mind and won't come out to haunt me, drive me insane, as it has done all these years since you left.  
  
How long has it been? Ten years? Eleven? Maybe even twelve. I don't know. I stopped keeping track of time a while ago. It's just the full moons now, nothing else matters. It's been one hundred and forty-two lonely fulls, and these have been even worse that the ones I had before Hogwarts, before Padfoot, Prongs and Wormtail. And then I thought I wanted to die on those one hundred and twenty-six nights. How wrong I was. Now I want to die all the time, and on the eve of yet another Full I think I might just as well get granted my wish. Transforming hurts more than ever, Moony wants so strongly to be with you, with his mate, that he nearly tears me apart because even he knows he can't have you ever again. He wants to let go, go to James and Lily. And maybe even you. Weird, isn't it, I'm writing a letter to you when I don't even know if you're alive.  
  
You are driving me insane, slowly but surely. Or maybe it's me, thinking myself to the edge of sanity. It can be no good to linger in the past, after all.  
  
Look at me, getting all philosophical on you. I've just not been able to do anything but think lately. Werewolves are not exactly popular dinner-guests. It's been long since the Order has had anything to do, I think it's more or less split up to the four winds now. I've had a hard time finding a job, since no-one is willing to employ a werewolf, and the shady places that don't check employees backgrounds more or less sack me after a few Fulls. Ah well, I think I'm managing. Maybe I'm really not, maybe I really am. Maybe I just don't care about anything, maybe I just want to die.  
  
Die. That was the first time I have allowed myself to think about that, allowed myself to acknowledge that possibility. Maybe I should leave altogether, stop struggling. But maybe, just maybe, it will someday get better, maybe this aching will lessen or go away, maybe my heart will stop feeling like it's been ripped out from my chest and burned, maybe I'll stop feeling so hollow, maybe I'll learn to live again. But just maybe.  
  
***  
  
AN part deux: Yep, that was it. Short and rather bad in my opinion, but do tell me what you think. That'd be very much appreciated.  
  
As you probably noticed, I decided to date these. The dates are based on the timeline at Harry Potter Lexicon. I just think it gives the impression I really worked hard for these. (Also note how I calculated the amounts of full moons and such. I counted the second one assuming Remus was bitten when he was five.) ^_^; 


	3. June the 11th, 1996

disclaimer: Do I have to repeat? No, not mine.  
  
Author's Notes: Well, this should be the final chapter. I think it maybe would have been best if I hadn't written this, because now the whole thing is getting repeative and woe-is-me-ish. Ah well, I promised, didn't I? And I got a beta for this chapter! Many thanks to J. Marguerite. I'm terribly, terribly sorry for the update taking so long, but I'm very, very lazy and couldn't get myself to open the text-editor and complete it. Gomen nasai. ; kneels and begs forgivness (Like anyone is still reading this, anyway...)  
  
And review replies again, because I love you all. Except if you read but didn't review. But I still like you moderatly much. ahem Moving on. ;  
  
Talifiney: Sorry, the message seems to have bounced back, so I couldn't send this to you for betaing. Well, maybe I could have, but I didn't want to dump a chapter to your inbox totally out of the blue. I think JK never mentioned the exact age, but it was when he was little. Everyone has a different opinion on little. Writer's block sucks.  
  
J. Marguerite: You're welcome. I consider reviewing to be nearly a civic duty. x) Thanks! blushes And thank you for being my beta.   
  
Letters to a loved one, chapter three.  
  
June 11th, 1996  
  
I can't believe it. It's impossible. You couldn't have left me alone by just simply falling through a bloody veil. I can keep denying it, but deep inside I think I know you're really, truly gone this time. I can't accept it; I'd rather believe anything else. I could pretend you're still alive somewhere behind that veil and that you'll come back to me one day... but I know that would be just lying to myself. Somehow, I know you're dead. It's like a piece of me fell behind the veil with you. I believe it was a rather important part. Hearts are considered that, sometimes.  
  
I don't go out anymore. I tried moving on after getting over the initial shock, but the people on the streets smiling, laughing, joking around with their friends, talking, doing whatever normal people do... It hurt; it hurt so much I thought I was going to crumble right there. I felt like the whole world was alive and in pretty, bright, overwhelming Technicolor and I was a gray shape littering the image. But what hurt the most were the lovers. First time I saw a happy couple walking hand in hand down a street in London I wanted to just fall to my knees and stop existing, just because it hurt so bloody much. Later I could cope with them, but men with black hair, no matter how little they resembled you, still remind me of you. And that is why I don't go out anymore.  
  
Now I know what you must've hated so much about this house. It brings up so many memories, ones that have now turned from somewhat happy to haunting. No matter how much you hate it, the house does have some of your essence in it. And the time the Order's headquarters were here? Every single item or room I see here reminds me of you in someway. It's pure hell, but I don't want to leave in the fear of forgetting.  
  
What I hate even more than going out or memories is pity. They all come to me explaining how they know how it feels and telling that you meant so much to them too. But oh! how wrong they are. There is something you should have told me, even if it would have caused me to have disturbing mental images. The only one who could possibly know how much it hurts is Harry, but he doesn't reply my letters. Not that they had anything in them, just an offer of understanding. Maybe he's still numb like me and couldn't care less for letters their teachers send them. I stopped opening my mail after the fifteenth "I'm so sorry for your loss, but I know how it feels, because my pet hamster died when I was six." Yes, I did receive that from someone.  
  
Molly especially keeps giving me these long, pitiful stares. Well, almost everyone is. I hate it, because pity can't bring you back and they don't even know that you were so much more than a friend to me. I know I can never fully accept it, but at least I stopped hoping I would wake up and find out it was all just a bad dream. Maybe, just maybe, I won't lose my sanity totally just now.  
  
A/N: No, I did not know how I should end it so it ended up being crap. Ah well, I moderately liked this. For some reason, Moony told me to throw in a sarcastic comment or two, but because in some cases I can't make the difference between sarcasm and sounding horribly stupid, I don't know how well it went. --;  
  
(Oh, I would just like to say I'll maybe do a really short epilogue. Just so I could reply to the reviews I'll possibly get from this one. hint, hint 


	4. Epilogue: June the 14th, 1996

disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
Notes: The epilogue. This has been bugging me since the first chapter, so I decided to write it down because I kind of liked it. This is from a third person POV and not in letter format like previous chapter, but I never could write first person POV's decently.  
  
Huge thanks again to J. Marguerite for beta-ing!   
  
I have nothing else to say, so now for review replies! I love you all.  
  
wandering shadow: I'm overly critical when it comes to my writings. I think I wouldn't have posted the second chapter if I hadn't promised I would. But I kind of liked chapter one.   
  
Remus-angst is nice. I have a tendency to torture characters I love, in my original work-in-process I constantly have to check I didn't kill off the main character's lover or something. x)  
  
Thanks, I think my self confidence is getting better because of reviews like that.   
  
AdriellaPiranhabite: Thank you.   
  
I wouldn't call it detailed, but I tend to use adjectives a lot.  
  
OwlRi aka Geladwyn: Yes, epilogue. Darn, I love that word.  
  
Yes, that they are. And I can't even get decent flames, or the ones that are so absurd they are funny. That was so pathetic it wasn't even funny.  
  
Thank you!   
  
Letters to a loved one, epilogue  
  
June the 14th, 1996  
  
Remus J. Lupin looked exceptionally worn out and tired. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep for a week, but that wasn't exactly the cause of his current condition. It had something to do with the fact only person he had left from all the people who he had ever loved was gone and dead. Now he had decided it was finally time to send him the letters he had had in a drawer in his desk for a bit less than fifteen years now.  
  
That was why Remus was standing on a cliff at the ocean, staring down at the waves. Slowly, he took a few steps back and dug something from his pocket. The something turned out to be three yellowed titled 'To Sirius' written on them in small, neat handwriting.  
  
Remus put the letters down on the smooth, rocky surface and pulled out his wand. He pointed it at them and whispered a spell. A burst of bluebell flames caught the dry parchment quickly. The lonely werewolf stood with his arms around himself, the a slight breeze ruffling his hair and robes and watched as his past life burned to ashes.  
  
Maybe now he could be at peace.   
  
AN: There, that was it. It was short. Very short.  
  
I can't believe I called Remus 'the lonely werewolf'. I've seen that one too many times to be able to take it seriously. XD  
  
Now, in case anyone is confused, I thought burning the letters would kind of kill them, thus sending them to where Sirius is. ;  
  
Review, please! puppy eyes  
  
Stupid Word, it thinks Remus is a typo. glare 


End file.
